When the war was as cold as ice

A movie still from the Russian film "Legenda No 17", about hockey player Valeri Kharlamov during 1972 Canada-Soviet Union Summit Series,. The Canadian players depicted are Phil Esposito (No 7) and BobShow more

Valeri Kharlamov died young, yet he endures as an embodiment of the traditional difference between the Russian style of hockey (elegant) and the North American (muscular). That difference, though diminished over the decades, was on display at the Sochi Games – and in the surprising film about Kharlamov that on January 30 dominated Russia's movie awards, the Golden Eagles. It snared six Eagles, including best movie.

Legenda No 17, which refers to Kharlamov’s sweater number, builds towards the opening game of the 1972 Summit Series between Canada and the Soviet Union. Canadians expected to crush the Soviets but players such as Kharlamov, Vladislav Tretiak and Alexander Maltsev intervened.

The surprisingly tight series caused North Americans to rethink how they played hockey, to adapt, and to eventually start signing Russian players – a phenomenon that Legenda depicts through Russian eyes.

The film presents Kharlamov as a loveable, floppy-haired, wide-eyed, happy-go-lucky kid, game for anything. Knock him down and he got back up, all heart and soul. Because Kharlamov was on the small side (1.73m) he struggled to reach the top level of Soviet hockey. But once there, he shone. He loved his girlfriend, and his mother.

If Kharlamov was an exuberant kid, then Legenda’s Canadians were the bullies out to spoil his fun.

In the film, before the first game of the series, a mean-spirited Montreal crowd greets the Russian players with chants of “Da, Da, Canada; Nyet, Nyet, Soviet”.

A garish sports writer then mocks the Russians at a news conference, saying that if they win the series, he will eat his newspaper. (Which in fact happened.)

The Canadian players are slack-jawed, gum-chewing, lumbering, snorting Neanderthals.

At one point, shots of them are interspersed with shots of rampaging bulls.

The movie, showing its cards early, had begun with Kharlamov as a boy saving a puppy from a herd of Pamplona-style bulls.

Canadian players Bobby Clarke and Phil Esposito appear on a chat show before the series (wearing their hockey gear – including skates, obviously). Esposito smashes a glass table with his stick and says that is what the Russians have in store for them. The TV hostess titters: “Oh my God, do you believe what you’ve just seen? I don’t think the Russians have any chance to win.”

(Not surprisingly, Legenda has been little noticed in Canada. UAE residents may have seen it while flying aboard Etihad.)

When the puck drops and the series begins, the Canadians body-check the Russians at every chance, elbow them in the face and slash. Clarke checks one Soviet player so hard that the Soviet flies into the Canadian team’s bench.

The Canadians score after 30 seconds. The rout seems on. But the plucky Soviet lads regroup and pull ahead with two dazzling goals from Kharlamov. Team Canada then turns even more brutish.

Phil Esposito glares at Kharlamov and makes a throat-slashing gesture.

Canada’s coach snarls: “We’re not playing hockey – this is war!”

Having made that clear, the head coach, in the film, singles out Kharlamov and orders Clarke to “shut him down”.

In reality it was an assistant coach who gave the order.

Wielding his stick like a caveman would a club, Clarke whacks Kharlamov across the ankle.

Down goes Kharlamov.

In reality, that happened in the sixth game of the eight-game series. Canada lost the opener 7-3 and would barely win the series. But it never lost a game after Clarke broke Kharlamov. Although Kharlamov was able to stay in the sixth game, he would miss the seventh and just was not the same in the eighth.

Clarke’s attack is gruesome to Russians. But, to be honest, in Canada it is more apt to provoke a warm chuckle; Clarke’s hack, in his homeland, is less the act of a thug than that of a naughty yet loveable schoolboy. “Oh, that Bobby!”

Hockey brings out the best and worst in Canadians. In Legenda, it brings out only the best in Russians. As the movie nears its end, even a brute like Esposito must acknowledge Kharlamov’s greatness.

They meet at centre ice.

Esposito: “Speak English?”

Kharlamov: “Yes, a leetel.”

Esposito: “I don’t understand how you did it. Those two goals – you’re good. I wish I had your speed and talent.”

They shake hands.

On the Canadian broadcast of that first game in 1972, the commentator, Brian Conacher, had marvelled: “The tolerance level by the Soviets is unbelievable. They’re disciplined – totally disciplined – athletes. They’re told not to fight and they will take anything.”

Kharlamov would die in 1981, at age 33, in a car crash. Every year the best Russian player in the NHL, as voted by his peers, is accorded the Kharlamov Prize.

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